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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674813">I swallow the sound (and it swallows me whole)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari'>Tamari</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, Language, unbetaed and unedited</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Caelum Lestrange would never, ever admit it, but he's spent countless hours dreaming of his soulmate. At sixteen, he's beginning to think he'll never find them. And then he does.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harriet Potter | Rigel Black/Caelum Lestrange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Rigel Black Universe</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. louder than sirens</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is not <em>really</em> a gift since it's answering my own prompt, but much appreciation to Tsume for her always inspiring soulmate AUs. </p><p>Soundtrack recommendation is Florence and the Machine "Drumming Song."</p><p>Full credit to murkybluematter for the canon dialogue!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was nothing special about that New Year’s Gala. Until there was.</p><p>Caelum was always bored shitless at the SOW Party’s events, and he never bothered to hide it. Why should he? Who was going to call him out on breaches of etiquette — who would dare? Only Lord Riddle would be willing to risk his mother’s baleful glare, and Lord Riddle had never even tossed a glance in Caelum’s direction. </p><p>Whatever the other attendees thought, it didn’t matter. None of their opinions meant anything, not truly. There was no substance to their honeyed words or their practiced rituals — false alliances, cold-blooded lies. In those glittering ballrooms, nothing was real. Nothing except the jewelry.</p><p>So he kept his hands hidden in his sleeves, drank an unseemly amount of champagne (and if he wasn’t actually consuming it, no one had to know), and said whatever popped into his head. The younger set of British purebloods mostly attended Hogwarts, but they knew enough of his reputation to tread carefully. That was how Caelum liked it.</p><p>He almost laughed when golden-eyed, strikingly handsome Heir Aldon Rosier introduced him to the scrawny, dark-haired child in the corner. <em> Rigel Black. </em>After all Bellatrix’s enraged rants about Lord Black and his blood-traitor ways, Caelum never would’ve expected to see his spawn here. The Black Heir had to be twelve or thirteen by now, but in all that time, Caelum had never laid eyes on him.</p><p>"Well met at last, <em> Cousin</em>," Caelum said ironically. "I greatly admire your uncle, Regulus, and your father…well, I suppose it really isn't your fault." </p><p>He spoke as if he were doing a kindness, giving Black an opportunity to prove he was more like his upstanding pureblood uncle than his disastrous traitor of a father. But Caelum knew that most any son would react poorly to those words; he’d been counting on it. A little verbal spar never failed to alleviate his boredom.</p><p>Caelum expected fury and offense to darken Black's delicate, almost feminine features. He did not expect astonishment. He did not expect… fear?</p><p>Black’s face smoothed to a careful neutrality. It was so eerie that Caelum, for a moment, doubted what he’d seen on Black's pale face. There was a long silence. Then Black opened his mouth. </p><p>"It says much of your generosity that you are able to let go the sins of the father in the case of the son, Lestrange. I can only attempt to afford you the same courtesy." </p><p>Caelum didn’t process any words after the first six. <em> It says much of your generosity.  </em></p><p>Growing up, Caelum often spent sleepless nights staring at the words on his wrist. Black words, not gold, meaning he was endlessly waiting to hear them. His words were written in small, slanting letters, not the looping calligraphy he’d glimpsed on all the adults he knew. Messy handwriting. Handwriting no self-respecting family would ever allow their Heir or Heiress to retain. But maybe his soulmate had a hand cramp, Caelum had reasoned, or a lazy governess. (It didn’t have to mean his soulmate was Light, or even worse, a blood-traitor.)</p><p>
  <em> It says much of your generosity. </em>
</p><p>In his sixteen years, Caelum had been introduced to countless Heirs and Heiresses at balls, galas, parties, fundraisers. And no one had ever praised his generosity. The idea was laughable. Why the hell would they? Caelum had a reasonable idea of his strengths and weaknesses. He was a brilliant potioneer, with a sharp mind and a sharp wit, but even he would never call himself generous. So, what, then? Caelum had imagined his soulmate to be painfully optimistic, the kind of sparkling soul who could see good in everyone, who would see qualities in Caelum that even he couldn’t see. The kind of person Caelum would normally roll his eyes and scoff at.</p><p>At night, though, when Caelum stared at his ceiling and lost himself in fantasies… his own beautiful face on the cover of <em> Potions Quarterly</em>, attending events as a Potions Master rather than a disgruntled Heir, coming home to someone who would break into a smile when he walked in the door... well, sometimes that didn't sound terrible.</p><p>
  <em> It says much of your generosity.  </em>
</p><p>But no. Of course the words were sarcastic. Of course the words were <em> fucking </em> sarcastic.</p><p>And of all the people to say them… Rigel Black. </p><p>Rigel Black, his second cousin. A second cousin as a soulmate was unexpected, but not unusual. The Light scions frowned on marrying closer than third cousins. Dark purebloods, however, regularly married their second and even first cousins. So that wasn't the issue. If it had been Regulus's son, no one would have batted an eye.</p><p>But Rigel Black. The son of a blood-traitor - the son of Sirius Black, who his mother loathed more than anyone in the world. Another story altogether. And Black was a boy — Caelum would never openly admit to having a preference, but his tastes leaned more traditional than Society would like, and he found himself eyeing beautiful girls most often. Black was also <em> twelve years old. </em>Not so much in the grand scheme of a wizard's lifetime, but hardly what Caelum had dreamed about.</p><p>Merlin, Fate hated him.</p><p>Caelum kept himself from grabbing at his wrist as it burned, the words etching in his skin in what he knew must be bright gold. At Black’s sharp words, the others traded glances and hissed breaths, but no one else was saying anything. Caelum kept his face as blank as he could.</p><p>Best not to let Black know — if he didn’t have the same words (and that happened sometimes) — and even if he did, the situation… He couldn’t walk away from the argument and look weak, couldn’t let Black have the last word. But neither could he let the other purebloods see the truth on his face. Caelum’s head was already pounding, and he felt sick. But he didn’t back down. </p><p>"A Slytherin, you say?" Caelum raised an eyebrow in Rosier’s direction. "No, I think not. Nothing but brash lion meat under all that shiny snakeskin, is there, Black?" </p><p>Lord Black’s son was a lion, no doubt. It had to have been <em> Sirius Black’s </em>son. What would Caelum’s mother say? (Would he even have the nerve to tell her?) He flitted his eyes back to Rigel’s, which were the coldest, flattest gray Caelum had ever seen. Colder than Regulus’s had ever been. </p><p>Black tilted his head, like he was actually considering the question at face value. "Interesting hypothesis, Lestrange. Do you mean to suggest that the Sorting Hat may be placing people in Slytherin who don't belong there, or did you mean to infer that I personally was able to dupe one of the oldest magical artifacts of our time? If the first, I would be interested to know who else you suspect of having been improperly sorted into Salazar's noble house. If the second, I'm afraid you flatter me beyond my worth, Cousin.”</p><p>Caelum just stared at him. Was he serious? Was he making this into some sort of twisted intellectual exercise, or some kind of mental trap to make Caelum look stupid in front of his peers? (Was his wrist burning like Caelum’s was, hotter and hotter the longer they stood there?)</p><p>Black’s smile made him look alarmingly like a baby deer. "Well, Lestrange? Do you think Rookwood belongs in Slytherin? He's awfully smart, though, so perhaps he should have been a Ravenclaw."</p><p>Caelum’s gaze shifted to Edmund Rookwood. The large boy didn’t say anything, didn’t even meet Caelum’s eyes. Did he know? Did they all know? There was no way they could, but Caelum was seized with the paralyzing fear that they could all see through the ridiculous argument. Black’s hands were trembling — but that could have been because of anger.</p><p>"What about Selwyn?" Black just wouldn’t stop. "Do you think she's a true Slytherin?" </p><p>"Watch it, Black.” Alesana Selwyn didn’t hide her annoyance at being dragged into the conversation. She was the type to stand back, and watch, and wait. Caelum envied her for once.</p><p>He put on his best sneer and directed it full-force at Black. "Do you imagine you have trapped me by asking such questions? You only prove my point. A boy like you has no place in the House of Snakes."</p><p>No place in Dark Society. No place as a Lestrange’s soulmate. It was all so fucked-up. The champagne glass was shaking in Caelum’s hand, too. He shouldn’t have filled it to the brim. </p><p>"I suppose you would know," Black said lazily. His slight smirk said plenty more. </p><p>Rigel Black was just like the others — nobody from Hogwarts could understand what it was like at Durmstrang. They didn’t know how Caelum had fought to stay in Britain. But he’d been shuntled away, at the end. Dragged back when it was convenient. Exiled when it wasn’t. </p><p>Caelum was burning, burning, his wrist and his throat and his chest. He took a long drink of champagne. It never reached his throat to soothe the flames.</p><p>"Oh, very good," Caelum said patronizingly, stepping forward into the circle the Hogwarts students had formed. He lowered his voice — less likely to be overheard by interfering busybodies — and looked down his nose at Rigel Black. His soulmate. "I suppose your daddy had time to teach you a few tricks after all, in between kissing up to that mudblood-loving fool Dumbledore and being a general disgrace to the name of his forefathers. What's wrong, Black? Nothing to say? Maybe even you realize that your father is beyond defense."</p><p>It was too much. He shouldn’t have said it. But he had. </p><p>Black’s face was unflinching. He looked much older than twelve, with those cold eyes, looking up at Caelum and searing him all the way through. "Was I supposed to be insulted? If you knew anything at all about Sirius Black, you'd know that he couldn't give two knuts about Light and Dark politics, and he would only consider your second remark the highest of compliments. In fact, I shall be sure to pass it along." </p><p>A thought crossed Caelum’s mind — <em> he calls his own father Sirius? </em>— but he was already speaking. Caelum had spent so many hours imagining his soulmate, and here was this twerp, ruining everything. Ripping Caelum’s quiet, secret dreams to shreds. </p><p>Caelum was going to rip Black to shreds in turn.</p><p>"Well, pass this along, too," Caelum hissed, fury making him spit. "You tell the bloodtraitor that if he thinks he can make nice in our ballrooms and then go home and fuck his<em> filthy werewolf whore </em> and laugh with his <em> bloodtraitor boyfriend </em> and that <em> mudblood bitch </em> …well, some of us would savor the chance to correct his thinking."</p><p>It wasn’t untrue. There were those in the ballroom thinking the exact same thing. But Caelum hadn’t meant to say it like such a threat — like <em> he’d </em> go after the bloodtraitors — like he was the one so personally affected. (Even though he was. Because Rigel Black had just spoken the words that would be shining on his wrist for the rest of his life. And Caelum would have to find a way to deal with that.)</p><p>Caelum couldn’t tear his gaze away from Black’s gray eyes, which was no longer cold and stoic. They flashed with anger, so fierce, so violent, that Caelum felt as if his breath had been knocked out of his chest.</p><p>In less than a second, less than a heartbeat, <em> something </em>slammed into his torso and he was flying backward. He was out of the circle — how? What? His glass of champagne was still in his hand. He looked at the circle, and they looked back. The other purebloods’ mouths weren’t moving, but they didn’t look pleased. No one was saying anything. </p><p>Rigel Black didn’t even have his wand out. </p><p>His voice was calm, measured, but loud enough for Caelum to hear even from five feet away through the din of the ballroom. "Excuse me, friends, but I must go and seek out Draco before he accuses me of avoiding him. Good evening.” Black turned and left, without a backwards glance towards Caelum.</p><p>Caelum wasn’t hurt. But his soulmate had pushed him away.</p><p>Of course.</p><p>Of course.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. louder than bells</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Still unedited and unbetaed. Again, all credit to murkybluematter for the dialogue at the gala -- I've taken it verbatim, with only minor edits or omissions. It'll start diverging more after this chapter, if I continue.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the bathroom off the Rosiers’ ballroom, Harriet Potter stared at her flat gray eyes in the mirror. </p>
<p>She wet Archie’s handkerchief in the sink and scrubbed at her face so hard it hurt. <em>Most people get their soulmate’s spit on them from kissing,</em> she thought sharply. <em>Not me. </em>Hesitantly, with a glance toward the locked door, she rolled up her sleeve to look at her wrist. She had kept a tiny hope that maybe she’d developed an allergic reaction to something — maybe it was all a mistake, a coincidence, that he’d said her words.</p>
<p>But no. There they glowed, in bright, searing gold. <em>Well met at last, cousin. </em>She’d seen her parents’ soulmarks, and they were far duller. Maybe her words would fade to a more circumspect color when more time had passed. The burning had stopped. Maybe the hot emotions swirling through her would fade with time, too.</p>
<p>Lestrange was her soulmate, however ridiculous the prospect seemed, but she couldn’t be his. Nobody would be that cruel, that purposely offensive, to the soulmate they’d just met. It had to be an unreciprocated bond — she had his words, but he didn’t have hers. That was just her luck. </p>
<p>Once, she had been interested in learning about soulmates. All kids went through that phase, she expected, but Harry’s soulmark had always confused her. Archie was the only cousin she’d ever met. He couldn’t be her soulmate, and they both knew it, since they had been talking to each other since they had learned to speak. Still, she’d made him say the words — “Well met at last, cousin” — just to see what would happen. Her words had stayed black. Her confusion hadn’t abated.</p>
<p>She’d pestered her parents about their family trees. Were they sure there wasn’t a cousin they’d missed? She had a first cousin on her mother’s side, but her parents had exchanged doubtful looks. First cousin soulmates were rare, and Muggles with soulmarks were even rarer. Lily had written to Harry’s Aunt Petunia and received a scathing note that Dudley was <em> normal</em>, thank you very much. So that prospect was right out. James had cousins, of course. He was a pureblood. But his parents, Fleamont and Euphemia, had both been only children*. Harry didn’t have any cousins closer than fourth cousins on James’ side. In Society, that was an expected relationship between any two purebloods. It wasn’t close enough to be greeted with “cousin.” So the words remained a mystery, a mystery that Harry didn’t spend much time trying to figure out.</p>
<p>Because she had her Potions. That was the hope she held on to, the drive that pushed her forward, the reason she was pretending to be Rigel Black in the first place. She’d never been that fussed about the idea of a soulmate, anyway. What could they bring to her life, that she didn’t already have? She had passion — about potions. She had friends: Archie, always, and then Draco and Pansy. She had her family. She didn’t need a soulmate.</p>
<p>The soulmarks were an unavoidable flaw in their ruse, though, even if she usually forgot about her own. Polyjuice didn’t change the words on one’s wrist — glamours could hide them, but only for so long. They’d discussed using glamours to mirror each other’s words, but had decided against it. They wouldn’t be changing in front of others, anyway, so no one would know. It was just one more thing to hide. But in this, at least, they weren’t alone, since purebloods were notoriously skittish about showing their wrists. It was considered rude to look at another’s soulmark unless they were family or your own soulmate.</p>
<p>Her family had always included Archie, Sirius, and Remus as well as her own parents, so they all knew each others’ marks. When she was younger, Remus had been the only one with a black soulmark besides her and Archie. They had to be especially careful when switching back during breaks, wearing long sleeves on the train and the airplane, since their parents knew the words that were supposed to be there. </p>
<p>When she and Archie had first switched, she’d remembered to be worried at the Welcoming Feast. Draco had nodded to her. Draco, who was Archie’s second cousin. But when he’d finally spoken to her, her fears had subsided. Her soulmate wasn’t at Hogwarts. She wasn’t in danger of complicating the ruse any further.</p>
<p>Archie had the opposite experience. He’d written to her shortly after the ruse began, explaining his words had been said on the plane to America, when he’d met Hermione Granger. And what would they <em>do</em>?</p>
<p>Hermione had met Archie as Harry. It kept Harry up at night, sometimes, wondering how that would mesh with their plan of changing back at the end of their schooling. What were their options — tell Hermione and risk Harry receiving the Dementors’ Kiss if Hermione told? Switch back and have Harry marry Hermione? (Not a good plan, for many reasons). Never switch back and remain in disguise forever? (Another terrifying idea.) She and Archie had still not reached a decision.  </p>
<p>Now Harry had met <em>her</em> soulmate, as Rigel Black, complicating things still further. But it was unreciprocated, she reminded herself. Caelum Lestrange would never have to know. It didn't have to be another strike against the ruse. </p>
<p>More than anything, Harry wished she hadn’t come. Archie could have come in her place. She could have faked sick. Anything but this. She could have been spending New Year's Eve with her parents in Potter Place, where she belonged. Instead, here she stood: with the wrong eyes, with the wrong family, with a new secret piercing her to the core.</p>
<p>A knock sounded at the bathroom door. Harry jolted out of her painful musing and tugged her robes down to fully cover her wrist. She opened the door, ready to apologize for taking up the bathroom for so long.</p>
<p>Archie’s uncle, Regulus Black, looked down at her. “Hello again, Nephew.”</p>
<p>Harry — no, <em>Rigel,</em> she was <em>Rigel — </em>bowed slightly. "Uncle. I trust your evening has been pleasant?" </p>
<p>"Diverting, at least," Regulus said. He looked uncomfortable. "Were you crying, boy?" </p>
<p>Rigel blinked. Had he heard what Lestrange had said to her? No, it must have been the combination of her red face and her extensive time spent locked in the bathroom. "No, Uncle. I was unfortunate enough to come into contact with a substance of questionable sanitary value, and merely sought to remove it before danger of infection set in." She made an effort to smile wryly, but she wasn’t sure she pulled off the expression.</p>
<p>"Pray tell, what sort of substance could you have possibly encountered at Rosier Mansion that would cause you hygienic apprehension?" Regulus raised his eyebrows, looking every inch the pureblood lord, even though Sirius held that title.</p>
<p>"Saliva, from the mouth of an unwashed Lestrange,” she said, forcing her tone sardonic. The Lestrange Heir had seemed clean, actually, but it was better to seem faintly disgusted than display any of the real emotions warring inside her. “Not that there's anything wrong with Lestranges," she added, not wanting to disparage the entire family in front of Regulus, who was related to them in truth. "I'm sure not all of them are… well." </p>
<p>She glanced up at Regulus, hoping he wasn’t offended at her words against his cousins. He wasn’t; instead, cold anger twisted his handsome face into something frightening.</p>
<p>"And how, exactly, did Lestrange spit end up on the <em>face</em> of the Black Heir?" Regulus asked, his dark gray eyes flashing.</p>
<p>"It does not matter, Uncle,” she said quickly. “I have taken care of it." </p>
<p><em>"You?" </em>Regulus sneered. </p>
<p>It occurred to her, suddenly, that Regulus Black was very young. His polite, stilted expression from their introduction had made him seem like one of the older pureblood gentlemen that she often met as Rigel. Anger made him look younger, brought out the delicateness of his features, yet somehow diminished his resemblance to Sirius at the same time. Sirius had never sneered like that. Regulus looked like Draco in one of his snits.Or — a little like teenage Caelum Lestrange had looked, five minutes ago, sneering down at her like she was dirt on his boots.</p>
<p>Rigel nodded. "Yes, me. We have settled our differences, and the only thing remaining was for me to prevent the onset of rabies. As you can see, that has been accomplished as well, so the matter is concluded to my satisfaction." She was proud of how steady her voice remained.</p>
<p>"And to your father's?" </p>
<p>"Sirius does not need to know of this incident," Rigel said, lifting her chin. "I do not like to trouble my father needlessly." </p>
<p>"When the Family Heir allows himself to be spat upon," Regulus hissed, "it is past time for the Family Head to be troubled." </p>
<p>"I can only assume you think so low of me because you do not know me, Uncle," Rigel said sharply, trying to swallow back her own anger. "But let me assure you that when I tell you I have handled something—it is handled." </p>
<p>Regulus looked more calculating than angry, now, and he stared at her for a moment. "So you may claim," he said eventually. "But know that if I hear it whispered among my colleagues that the Black Heir is <em>weak</em>, I will not stand idly by. The House of Black cannot afford another weak Family Head, and if I think for a moment that you are…unfit for the responsibility, I will see to it that it is never yours to bear." </p>
<p>Rigel wanted to laugh at his attempt at a threat; he didn’t understand Archie at all, if he thought that would sway Rigel Black. She bowed once more. "I await your judgment then, Uncle. Please excuse me." </p>
<p>She brushed past him to rejoin the party. As Rigel greeted Narcissa and followed her through the crowd to find the other Malfoys, she couldn’t stop Lestrange’s words from echoing in her head like gunshots. <em>Werewolf whore.</em> <em>Mudblood bitch. </em>And Regulus Black’s cold voice twining around the words: <em>weak, </em>he’d called her. Maybe she was weak. Maybe the words should have rolled off her, maybe she should have stayed coolly polite and disengaged within the bounds of etiquette. She’d heard the same or worse in the Slytherin Common Room. But those words hadn’t been directed at <em>her</em> family. </p>
<p>Those words hadn’t been said by <em> her </em> soulmate. They hadn’t set her wrist ablaze and made her heart sick.</p>
<p>She and Narcissa approached the center of the ballroom, where a knot of elites stood socializing. Mr. Riddle was there, of course, commanding the room. Even from their other conversations, everyone had an eye on Riddle, half-turned toward him like he was the sun. Lucius Malfoy and Pansy’s father stood beside him. From the Black Family Tapestry, Rigel could recognize the beautiful, dark-haired woman there as Bellatrix Lestrange. Sirius’s cousin. Caelum’s mother. The two men beside her must have been Rodolphus and Rabastan. Rigel eyed the others in the sizable group, but she only recognized Lord and Lady Rosier, their hosts.</p>
<p>Draco was there, standing beside his father, and turned to greet Narcissa and Rigel.</p>
<p>"There you are! Pansy is monstrously cross with you." Draco motioned for her to step in beside him.</p>
<p>“I shall find a suitably degrading way to beg her forgiveness," Rigel said, smiling a bit at the normalcy of it all. "Having a pleasant time, Draco?" </p>
<p>"I suppose," Draco said. "Nothing terribly exciting has happened, but now that you're here, I expect that will change rather abruptly." </p>
<p>Rigel gasped mockingly. She rubbed at her wrist, which had started tingling. "It's as though you want strange things to happen around me, Draco. Haven't I told you they aren't my—"</p>
<p>"Mother!" </p>
<p>Rigel stiffened as a voice cut through the buzz of the ballroom. She couldn’t stop her head from turning to watch Caelum Lestrange stride over to grab at his mother’s elbow. Bellatrix Lestrange turned her head, cutting off her conversation with Mr. Parkinson. </p>
<p>She gazed at Caelum for a good ten seconds in silence before saying, "Yes, Caelum? What is so important that you must discuss it with me <em>now</em>?" Her eyes flicked sharply toward the other people in the group, who were watching with interest and dangerous looks. Rigel tried to look as unobtrusive as possible, hiding behind Draco without being too obvious she <em>was</em> hiding.</p>
<p>Caelum Lestrange opened his mouth, but then he whirled his head to stare—past Draco, straight at Rigel. As if the older boy had been drawn to her like a Summoning Charm. “<em>You."</em></p>
<p>"Good evening, Lestrange," Rigel said, forcing the bitterness out of her polite smile. Her face felt numb. She couldn’t do this, not in front of everyone. Again.</p>
<p>Caelum’s eyes narrowed, and his pale face flushed an unhealthy puce. He looked less haughty, and more nauseated. Then he whirled away and disappeared into the crowd, without another word to his mother or to Rigel.</p>
<p>Rigel found it hard to concentrate on her etiquette as Bellatrix confronted her about the interaction. Yes, she was Rigel Black — no, she didn’t know why Caelum had reacted like that —  she’d only met him once. Bellatrix was terrifying in a different way than Riddle, but Rigel didn’t have the mental energy to be frightened. Dully, she wished for Archie's cheerful presence by her side instead of Draco's knowing smirk.</p>
<p>She followed Draco obediently to find Pansy, and hoped with all her heart that midnight would come soon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. it fills my head up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Caelum went back to Durmstrang in January. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was his sixth year of schooling. The end was so close he could almost taste it. No more crowded dorm full of uncouth roommates, no more freezing winters. No more faking interest and completing assignments for stupid subjects like Charms and History of Magic. There was no point in using his time for something that wasn’t Potions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spent his days dreaming about getting the perfect apprenticeship with a famous Potions Master (and pointedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> dreaming about anything else). His dream — his Potions dream — was achievable, he just knew it. With his talent, he could break into the tight-knit Potions community at last. The clout of his Lestrange name wouldn’t hurt, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Step one was submitting an application for the prestigious British Potions Guild apprenticeship. They almost never took students below journeyman level, so it was a long shot. But when Caelum had brewed the requested samples for the application, he’d known in his bones they were perfect. Better than perfect. Better than anything the Master at Durmstrang could brew. If they didn’t pick him, it would be a travesty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At breakfast in February, a Horned Owl dropped a cream envelope into Caelum’s lap. The wax seal was stamped with the mark of the Potions Guild. Caelum opened it, breath catching, hoping like he hadn’t hoped since…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside was a handwritten letter from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aldermaster.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The internship was his. Caelum punched a fist into the air, and grinned so widely that his classmates stared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is Lestrange… happy? What the hell?” one of his roommates said incredulously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know his face could look like that.” The Alexeyev Heiress tilted her head, gaze uncomfortably keen. “Have you ever thought of giving up the cauldron to pursue modeling, Lestrange?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, idiots,” Caelum said, but he was still grinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caelum returned to Britain that summer, as usual. Normally, he spent most of his time cloistered up at home; there was no one he wished to see in Britain (and some he actively wished </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see). But this summer was different. It was the first summer he’d actually had something to look forward to. The first summer of the rest of his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the Potions Guild, on his very first day, Caelum arrived early. He was introduced to another boy, Renaldo Casillas, to whom he took an instant (reciprocated) dislike. In the instruction room, he sat at a desk and tried to look relaxed. There was no need for Casillas and whoever the other intern would be to see him </span>
  <em>
    <span>nervous. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And there was no need to be nervous, anyway, he told himself. He hadn’t taken the NEWTs yet, but he knew as much about Potions as any journeyman. Caelum lounged back in his seat, scratching absently at his wrist and earning a dirty look from Renaldo Casillas. He scowled right back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The third intern would likely be the same breed of fool that Casillas was: acing tests, brewing one batch of perfect Polyjuice, and thinking that was all there was to potion-making. No finesse, no sense of artistry. Caelum glanced to the door as it swung open, wondering if the Master who’d be teaching them would be on time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t the Master.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rigel Black stood in the doorway, holding a ridiculously oversized Potions bag and looking like Christmas had come early. His gaze flicked over Casillas, and then he saw Caelum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caelum sneered on instinct, but he wasn’t sure if he hid his shock at seeing his soulmate for the first time in half a year. He’d been utterly blindsided; there’d been no reason to expect to see Black here</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Was Black even interested in Potions? Was he —  scratch that, Black was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d wandered into the wrong room, surely. No way he was the third intern. It was impossible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Black’s face smoothed into icy neutrality as he crossed the room to sit — next to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Casillas. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It was to be expected. They’d parted on such poor terms at the last gala. Still, it stung.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caelum scowled at him. "What are you doing here? This program is for talented brewers, not amateur children." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Black quirked an eyebrow. "Have we met?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fury lit like a fire through Caelum’s whole body at Black’s disrespect. It was horridly rude to forget any face in High Society, which Black knew full well. Pretending to forget your soulmate? Unspeakable. Unforgivable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caelum sucked in an angry breath. "Very amusing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Black</span>
  </em>
  <span>," he spat. "Too good to remember your betters?" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh—you've met my cousin, then, Rigel Black? Don't worry, this sort of thing happens a lot. We're very similar in appearance." The boy’s eyes widened, and only then did Caelum see it. The boy looked just like Rigel Black, from the hair to the pureblood features, but his eyes were a dull sort of green instead of the trademark Black gray.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caelum stared into them suspiciously. Surely he would have known. Surely he should have recognized his own soulmate. He ignored the unpleasant jolt through his chest at the thought. "Is that so? How convenient. Who exactly are you supposed to be, then? Regulus Black's bastard—" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Careful," the kid retorted. "Regulus Black doesn't take kindly to slights against the Black Family name. I'm not related to Rigel by blood, however. I should have said honorary cousin. My name is Harry, Harry Potter." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Potters were in the Book of Gold, Caelum knew that like he knew his own family tree. James Potter had married a Mudblood, and they’d had a half-blood kid. A half-blood </span>
  <em>
    <span>daughter.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The Potter Heiress?" He stared at her for a beat, taking in her scrawny frame, then snorted. "You've got to be the ugliest girl I've ever seen." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be fair, she was still a child; there was time for her to groom those unsightly eyebrows, learn how to use cosmetic spells, and develop a sense of style. But running around looking like her cousin — her </span>
  <em>
    <span>male</span>
  </em>
  <span> cousin — wouldn’t do her any favors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Potter girl was unfazed. "Perhaps I am. But I think it's awfully rude to say so." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rude? He wanted to laugh. If she’d heard what he’d said to her “cousin” at the gala, she’d have a better understanding of what “rude” meant to a Lestrange. She’d have to toughen up quick if she wanted to last in the cutthroat world of academia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Who cares what you think? A brat like you won't last a week in this program. They'll send you home crying like the little girl you are." He sneered at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Caelum wouldn’t have said so, but even then, a part of him was curious if she’d prove him wrong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And another part of him was wishing that Rigel Black </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been the one to walk through that door.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is still just a (short) canon rehash, but eventually I do see it diverging from canon, especially as Harry gets to know Caelum (and remember, SHE knows that he's her soulmate, but he won't know that Harry Potter is his).</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More to come? Maybe?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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